Oracle: A Diana Hawthorne Psychic Mystery Book

by Carissa Andrews

  Without hesitation, I keep walking to the Rover. I might be headstrong, but I sure as hell ain’t stupid.

  How the hell are we going to get Esther out now?

  There’s no chance the man’s going to let us back in after all this.

  I watch from the seat, wondering what Blake could possibly have to say to the man at this point.

  A moment later, Blake takes a step onto the porch, but turns back to the man—firmly swiping his elbow upside the man’s head. Almost in slow motion, he drops like a marionette whose strings have been cut.

  Kicking the car door open, I rush up the stairs.

  “What the?” I say, my voice higher pitched than it should be.

  Blake turns back to me, and shrugs. “Damn drug was taking too long to kick in.”

  “Holy shit, is he okay?”

  Blake chuckles, turning to me. “Does it really matter at this point?”

  I glance down at the old man sprawled out on the orange shag carpet. He’s actually not as old as I suspected originally. Without the panic of being shot lingering over me, I realize he’s only in his mid-forties—fifties, tops. But all the years of alcohol abuse hasn’t been kind to him.

  “Not so much,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Good, then help me find Esther and let’s get the hell outta here,” Blake says, rushing to the closet under the stairs.

  “Shouldn’t we—I don’t know—tie him up or something?” I ask, pointing at his sprawled-out body on the floor.

  “Nah, it will take hours for it to wear off. By then, he’ll be locked up good and safe in his very own cell,” Blake says, rushing to the closet door at the back of the stairs.

  I take a final glance at the crumbled body of a wasted life.

  How does anyone ever get to this point? Alcohol, drugs, sex addictions, money problems. Human beings can be so easily warped and twisted.

  I don’t know where to put the sorrow welling up. Not necessarily for the man, but for innocence lost. If I know anything about people, it’s they don’t start out this way. They’re made.

  “What the hell? There’s nothing here—it’s just a coat closet,” Blake calls back, an edge of panic playing at the edges of his rough exterior.

  Shaking my head, I walk to the door frame and have a look inside. He’s right. There’s nothing. Flinging apart the drabs of old coats, flannel shirts, and overalls, I trace the back wall. There’s no door—no buttons.

  “Step aside,” I say, pushing past Blake and heading back to the man.

  “So help me, Diana…if I knocked out some poor old drunk dude for no reason—” Blake warns.

  “It’s him. I know it is. She’s here—”

  Walking over to the man, I lean down, and place my right hand over his.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shhhh. Give me a minute,” I tell him, as I close my eyes.

  My mind is flooded with garbled images; thoughts and memories all mashed together in a strange conglomeration of near incoherence. Dark holes, swimming doorways, a necklace swinging around his fingertips with something dangling at the end, laughter, and more drinks.

  “Dammit,” I say, standing up and having a look around the room. I walk to the other end of the room to get a different vantage point.

  There has to be something here. Something to clue me in.

  “What’s going on?” Blake asks, following me. “Diana, talk to me. Where is Esther?”

  “I don’t know, Blake. I’m trying to read the room. Can you shut up and give me a minute, please?” I say, casting a back-the-eff-off glance his direction.

  “Unbelievable. I knew it…” he says, walking away and reaching for his cellphone.

  With him out of the room, colors, sensations, and impressions clear up. I hone in on the ones related to Esther—because I can sense her here. Now and before. The echoes and impressions of when she first arrived are muddled with the excitement she was feeling about getting to finally cuddle the puppy she’d been promised. Yet, she also knew something wasn’t quite right. She didn’t like the smell of the house, or the stench of the man’s breath, and she knew she was too far and her parents were gonna freak.

  All of my instincts and impressions are screaming she’s close by—only the path to her is muddled.

  “Blake, can you step outside for a moment?” I call out.

  He steps back in the room, covering the voice end of his cellphone, and makes a face.

  “Excuse me?” he says.

  “I need to get a clear read and I you’re getting in the way,” I say.

  “Oh, so now this is my fault,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure. I’ll step outside while I’m trying to find a way to clean this mess up.”

  “Super,” I say sharply.

  As soon as he leaves the house, the back end of the room lights up like a Christmas tree. Red and green light surround the grungy back wall of the living room.

  Standing up, I walk to the main entry to the living room—the one leading to the stairs and the hallway, then back around to the closet and second entry on the other side.

  There’s way more space beneath the stairs than the tiny closet uses. I place my hands along the walls and close my eyes. Esther suddenly floods my mind as she slams on the other side of the wall. It’s mildly soundproofed—but I can still hear her trying to get the attention of anyone on the other end. Pulling back, I search for how she got in there. Remnants of energy used to bring us to the here and now.

  With my eyes closed, I continue to walk along, hands on the walls, until my palms abruptly burn. Flashes of the old tongue and groove wood wall shifting aside slides into my mind and I open my eyes. I’m back in the living room, back to the grungy wall where I started.

  I search for a trigger—something that allows the wall to pop out or slide back. The man isn’t that sophisticated, so it has to be something simple, something in plain—

  A small knot in the wood has been cleaned out, revealing a simple, but open hole. It could be so easily missed or dismissed. Placing my right pointer finger inside, I grip the wood and pull. The facade easily pops off the wall and I nearly lose my balance as it lands on top of my feet. Throwing it to the side, I drop to my knees. Beneath the fake facade, set back half a foot or so, is a small insulated door, barely four feet tall.

  Tugging on the handle, it doesn’t budge.

  “Shit. Of course, it’s locked,” I mutter under my breath.

  Lucky for those incoherent images from earlier—I know exactly where the key is.

  Scrambling to my feet, I rush over to the man. Dropping to my knees, I push him over so he’s on his back.

  “What the hell are you doing now?” Blake says, walking back into the house. His eyes are wide with surprise and he steps forward with his hands splayed wide.

  “Shut up and go take a look at the wall. She’s in there. I need to find the key,” I say, mentally preparing myself to search the man for the necklace with the key.

  Taking a deep breath, I thrust my hand under his shirt in search of the necklace. Nothing’s there but an overly hairy chest.

  Flashes of him twirling the necklace and shoving it in his pocket come to mind. I shudder, pulling my hand back.

  “Ugh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  “Christ, how’d you find this?” Blake says from the living room.

  “How the hell do you think, dumbass. Psychic, remember? Just because you don’t believe it, doesn’t make it less so.”

  Taking a deep breath, I plunge my hand into the man’s right pocket and pull out the key.

  Blake’s jaw drops open, but thankfully he doesn’t say another stupid statement. Instead, he backs away and makes space for me as I scramble back over to the little doorway.

  Placing the key inside, the satisfying click of the lock pulling back is like nothing I’ve ever heard. I yank the door open and inside, Esther falls back on her butt, tears streaming from her red face. With her inside is the little puppy that lured her h
ere, a small cloth for a blanket, and the ugly orange shag carpet.

  “C’mon, let’s get you outta here,” I tell her, extending my arms to her.

  Esther’s eyes widen, and she clutches the puppy to her body.

  “It’s okay, Esther. We gotta go,” I urge.

  She shakes her head, “Where’s my mom?”

  Blake pulls me back, taking my place.

  “Hey sweetie. Do you remember me? My name’s Blake and your mom and dad are both very worried. They’ve sent us here to come get you. Will you come with us?” he voice is low and soft; the kind of tone I suspect a good dad uses when they’re trying to get their kid to bed.

  “Mom’s gonna be so mad at me,” Esther says, fresh tears streaming from her eyes.

  Blake shakes his head, “Nobody’s mad. We all want to see you get home safe and sound. Will you come with us?”

  He offers his arm out to her and she nods, “Okay, but can I keep the puppy?”

  “Sure, Esther. Bring her along, too,” he nods, pulling both of them in close.

  “It’s a boy. See?” Esther lifts the puppy by its front paws revealing its gender.

  “So it is,” Blake chuckles. “C’mon, let’s go.”

  Blake takes a step back, helping Esther out of the little room.

  “Where the hell ya’ll think yer going with her? She’s mine, ya hear,” the man slurs from the floor.

  5

  WE BOTH SPIN AROUND surprised to see the man of the house rousing and reaching again for his shotgun. His gestures are slow, and sluggish as he struggles to get to his knees.

  “Told you we should have tied him up,” I blurt out, my voice nearly a screech.

  Esther screams and flings herself back inside the room.

  Blake pushes past me, rushing forward, and kicking the shotgun out of the man’s reach. He follows the movement immediately by landing his steel toed boot squarely upside the man’s head. For the second time tonight, he slumps to the floor.

  “Oh my God, tie the man up, would you?” I say, my eyes blazing into Blake’s before turning back to Esther. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s safe now.”

  Reaching for my hand, hers shakes as she bends down and exits the small enclosure. Her eyes widen at the sight of her captor on the floor, and she hugs the puppy tighter—who in turn squeals and tries to break free from her grasp.

  Without a word, Blake sets to work, hoisting the man up into a small arm chair, and tying him up with whatever ropes and cords he finds available. He secures him expertly, tying knots I haven’t seen in years.

  “Boy Scout, were ya?” I say, pulling Esther close, unable to take my eyes off him.

  “Something like that,” Blake mutters, not breaking his focus.

  When he’s satisfied with his handiwork, he finally pushes up to a stand and lets out a sigh of contentment.

  For a moment, his dark brown eyes lock with mine. Something plays at their creases—but it’s more than simply relief. Curiosity, maybe? Borderline appreciation? All of it? In those brief seconds, I wish like hell I knew what was going on in his mind. What I wouldn’t give to know what he was actually thinking.

  Such a strange sensation, when your whole life, you’ve never not known the ins and outs of someone else’s mind. Hell, half the time I understand most people better than they know themselves. Makes for awkward and usually irritating romantic entanglements, that’s for sure.

  Blake pulls out his cellphone again and points to the front door.

  “Diana, can you get Esther out to the Rover? I’m gonna call this in to the authorities so they can come collect this monster,” he says, turning his gaze to the man. If looks could kill, I’m pretty sure the man’s limp body was blazing in the seventh circle of hell for the eleventh time.

  Turning to Esther, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and usher her past Blake and her captor—toward the front door. Her little body tucks easily beside my own, as she continues to quake from the bizarre experience she’s just lived through. Her feelings begin to emerge—muddied at first, but clearer the further from Blake we are.

  She’s afraid of how her parents are going to react when they find out what she did. But at the same time, she so happy to be out of the scary closet—and happy she’s still got her puppy. Her mind plays at other memories—ones she doesn’t want to rehash, but still flash through her. Groping hands and violent slurs—

  “Come on, Esther. Let’s get you home,” I say, my shoulders releasing a bit of the tension I didn’t realize I was still lingering on to.

  I open the back door to the black Range Rover and she slides inside.

  “Do you need help with your seatbelt?” I ask, reaching for the buckle.

  She instantly scoffs and makes a face.

  “I’m not four,” she says, reaching for the belt and aptly clicking it into place.

  “Right,” I say nodding to myself.

  Clearly, my years of avoiding most human contact has me pretty clueless on the capabilities of an eight-year-old, compared to those younger.

  As I close the door, headlights flash in the distance and I instantly get the impression of two men coming to collect the girl. They’re talking about how pleased their boss will be because they’ve been trying to move on her for ages.

  A shiver creeps down my spine and I immediately race back to the house.

  “Blake—Blake, we have to leave,” I say, clutching the arm of his leather jacket and tugging him toward the door, “—now.”

  “Diana—I’m on a call with the PD. What in the hell are you—?”

  “See those headlights?” I say, pointing to the distance. They’re significantly closer and if we don’t leave now, we’re gonna have a hell of a lot more trouble on our hands.”

  “Yeah, so?” he says, shaking his head.

  “They’re here for Esther,” I say, yanking him out the door. “Hang up the phone and let’s GO.”

  Blake doesn’t second guess me, thank God. He crams the cellphone into his coat pocket and we race together back to the Rover. As we slide into our seats, Blake starts up the vehicle in record time. The nondescript van pulls up beside us as we screech into reverse.

  It takes a moment for the new arrivals to realize what’s happening. As we hit the street, Blake spins the Rover around—slamming both myself and Esther against our doors as he makes his getaway. Shots are fired and flare off the backend of the vehicle. One bullet hits its target, shattering the back windshield into a thousands of pieces.

  Esther’s high pitch screams flood the vehicle, as she grabs her head and tucks down. The puppy jumps at the opportunity to get free and scrambles off her lap to cower in the foot well.

  “Stay down,” I say to her, reaching around and holding her hand.

  She grabs on tight but does as she’s told.

  “Hang on,” Blake says again, turning a corner faster than he should. Up ahead, flashing lights can be seen, and Blake noticeably relaxes. “About goddamn time. Christ, what would we do if we really needed them? It’s been nearly five minutes since my damn call.”

  He drops his speed to a more manageable level and eases back into his seat.

  “Are you going to flag them? Let them know it’s us?” I ask.

  “Hell no,” Blake snickers. “They have bigger fish to fry.”

  “What about Esther?”

  “We’ll get her back to her parents. From there, we’ll let Ted and Lacy decide what happens next,” he says, releasing a sigh.

  I look back at Esther. She hasn’t moved since the glass shattered, but her left hand has begun to search for the puppy’s fur to stroke.

  “How are you holding up, Esther? I’m sure this has to be quite the night for you,” I say, trying to put on an air of indifference. I mean, honestly, do we need to freak her out any more than she already is?

  Her wide eyes meet mine, but she doesn’t respond.

  “How are you doing?” I ask, turning to Blake.

  His hands are firmly gripped around the ste
ering wheel, but the hyper-focus he had going on is starting to dissipate.

  “I’ll be feeling a helluva lot better once those assho—sorry—jerks are apprehended,” he says, looking over his shoulder at the little girl.

  “Me too. Do you think they have them yet?” I ask.

  “Sure as hell hope so. I mean, we practically handed them all over on a silver platter,” Blake says, turning left toward town. The city lights begin to emerge and even I can’t help but relax a little bit.

  I release Esther’s hand and she picks up the puppy and clutches him close again. Twisting around in my seat, I look out the front windscreen and let my gaze soften. The passing lights begin to blur as my own body and senses begin to come back down from their heightened use.

  “Hope so, too,” I mutter.

  “What about you?” Blake asks.

  “What about me?”

  “Are you okay?” he says, turning to look at me briefly.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. A bit drained now.”

  “Well, good work back there,” he says, shrugging his right shoulder.

  I turn to look at him. “Did you just give me a compliment?”

  He shrugs again.

  “I give credit where credit is due,” he says.

  “Wow. Well, thanks, I guess,” I say, rolling my eyes. Despite myself, I can’t help but crack a smile.

  “No, seriously. I don’t know how you found her, but I’m glad you did.”

  “You know how I found her. You just don’t believe it’s possible.”

  Blake takes a moment to call Ted and Lacy—filling them in we’re on our way and asking them to call the police to meet us.

  We enter the full throes of the city, and I can’t help but wonder how things will change for Esther. What will Ted and Lacy do to keep her safe now? Will they go overboard and be overprotective? Or will they carry on with life as normal now that she’s back?

  “It’s not that I don’t believe, per se. It’s just—I find it highly improbable. Not to mention, a bit freaky,” he says, throwing me a sideways glance.

  “Freaky? Why? Do you have things to hide Blake?” I say, raising an eyebrow.